Gold of Hair
by Okami No Yume
Summary: Cersei gazes at her newborn son. She reaches down to stroke his tuft of soft golden hair, and smiles, and muses, and plots. One-shot, based on the TV 'verse.


**Gold of** **Hair**

A Game of Thrones fanfiction

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** I very obviously do not own Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire. It belongs to HBO and George R. R. Martin. (Dude! I want the sixth book to come out already!) I am nothing more than a humble fan.

* * *

Cersei reached into the bassinet and brushed a slender finger across the tiny infant's cheek.

He was beautiful. He was perfect. He was everything she hoped he would be. Her Joffrey, the perfect little prince.

And, most importantly, she knew, he was no product of hers and Robert's union, but he was a tangible manifestation of hers and Jaime's love.

However, Robert was none the wiser, and no one else suspected that the child that had inherited the Lannister golden hair rather the coal-black Baratheon features could be in any way illegitimate. And besides, if anyone did suspect, they dared not give voice to their misgivings unless they wanted to face the executioner's ax. Cersei felt confident in this fact.

She was also confident that Robert was too much of a stupid, drunken fool to ever question the possible paternity of his and Cersei's children, since all he cared to do was drink and whore his way into an early grave. Gods only knew how many bastard children he'd sired, and how many more he would sire during that endeavor. Cersei wished that she could snuff out all of their pathetic little lives out of pure spite.

Just like she had done with their first son, born with jet-black hair and big blue eyes. He'd been born healthy, robust, and smiling until he had fallen ill with a fever. Robert had adored the child while Cersei had despised and resented him from the day he was born-oh, how she loathed the fact that Robert's seed had managed to take root inside her and produce a child that she feared that would grow up to be as stupid and boorish as he was.

Smothering the child while he slept had been a simple matter, really. It was assumed that the fever had took him, and no one had ever caught on-and Cersei liked to think she played the part of the grieving mother convincingly enough-as the queen wept for her loss, as did the court and the rest of the city for the tragic passing of Robert Baratheon's firstborn heir.

She vowed from then on that Robert would never father any more of her children again-any that she produced would come from the forbidden affair between her and Jaime-her bright, beautiful brother, the lion to her lioness, the one man in all the world that was her equal, and therefore, worthy of her. She smiled to herself, thinking how she couldn't wait to introduce Jaime to his son, but she felt a deep sorrow that she had not been free to marry her beloved brother like she wished-their love was condemned to stolen kisses, frantic couplings in secret-treated like it was something forbidden, shameful, ugly. There were times where she almost wished she and Jaime had been born Targaryens instead of Lannisters, because they, she knew, had had no qualms about wedding brother to sister. Then, their love could have been free and open rather than shut away in the dark and she wouldn't have been bartered off to Robert Baratheon, who, she thought ruefully, should have had a fat boar as his family sigil instead of a noble stag.

Joffrey squeaked and whimpered, jerking her from her reverie. She shushed him gently and spoke, "There, there sweetling, don't cry now." She stroked his head comfortingly until he quieted, soothed by her voice and her touch.

She continued to caress his head, and she felt herself smile. "You may carry the name of Baratheon, but someday, a Lannister will sit the Iron Throne, and you will be my greatest glory. You will succeed where Jaime and I did not. You will be our triumph, and I will mold you into the ruler you were meant to be."

And with that, she placed a kiss on the baby's forehead, and left him to his innocent slumber, blissfully unaware of his mother's visions of grandeur.

* * *

**A/N:** For the record, Jaime and Cersei's relationship squicks me out, and I don't normally write incest, implied or otherwise. I just thought it would be a fun experiment to try and write from her perspective. I hope I captured her character well enough. If not well...at least I tried.


End file.
